For a long time neither spoke again. ‘You think my father would not have married Suzanne if he had known? Me, I do not agree. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. \"I'm sorry, Larry. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. She felt herself shaking again. . .
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